


Feel the Tide Turning

by Rrrowr



Series: WIP Amnesty [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Bottom Peter Hale, M/M, Mates, Slow Burn, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Returns to Beacon Hills, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8783596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/pseuds/Rrrowr
Summary: The year before Stiles left marked the largest exodus from Beacon Hills that the town had ever seen. The number of deaths -- not the least of which was the slaughtering of nearly the entire police department -- cast a pall over the entire population. Hypervigilance, Ms. Morrell had said to him once. It was a long time ago now, but Stiles had understood. He'd understood, and when the opportunity to run came, he ran. Stiles tries not to feel shame for that, but when he sees Scott waiting for him outside of the baggage claim, he can't quite match him, smile for smile.





	

Beacon Hills International Airport, despite sounding impressive, only sees enough traffic to warrant the use of four of its twelve gates. The plane that carries Stiles to said airport is an MD-87 -- not a puddle jumper by any means, but it's no Boeing either -- and only about half full besides. No surprise there, Stiles thinks with a grim little frown. 

The year before Stiles left marked the largest exodus from Beacon Hills that the town had ever seen. The number of deaths -- not the least of which was the slaughtering of nearly the entire police department -- cast a pall over the entire population. _Hypervigilance_ , Ms. Morrell had said to him once. It was a long time ago now, but Stiles had understood. He'd understood, and when the opportunity to run came, he ran. Stiles tries not to feel shame for that, but when he sees Scott waiting for him outside of the baggage claim, he can't quite match him, smile for smile.

"It's good to see you, man," Scott says, clasping Stiles' arm and pulling him in for a hug. "It's been a long time. What's it been? Three years? Four?"

"Hey, now. I've totally been back since college," Stiles argues, giving Scott a squeeze around the shoulders. "Besides, it's only been two."

Scott is still smiling when he lets Stiles go. It seems genuine to Stiles, but maybe he's not as good at reading his friend as he used to be. "Yeah but coming back for a few days when the Hales need help doesn't count. Two years feels longer without you around," Scott says. He gives Stiles a lingering once over and laughs as he slaps the flat of Stiles' stomach with the back of his hand. "God, look at you! You've really filled out. Who the hell are you trying to impress?"

Chuckling too, Stiles shoves away Scott's hand. "Shut up, dude. Maybe it's for Lydia. You don't know."

"Ha! As if. You know she's never forgiven you for running off before her. Plus with Peter and all-" Scott cuts off awkwardly and then clears his throat as he reaches for Stiles' bag. "Look, whatever. You're here, and that's what matters. Do you know how long you'll be staying this time?"

"Um." Stiles isn't altogether sure. It's summer break and in theory, he's back for the few months before the fall semester starts again. It's hard to say whether he'll want to stay in Beacon Hills the entire time -- even with his dad here, even with Scott and Allison, even with Lydia. "I'm staying for as long as I can, I guess. Which isn't saying much, I know, but..."

"No, man. It's cool," Scott cuts in with a shrug and closes the trunk over Stiles' luggage. "I just hope you're around for longer than a few, you know what I mean? There's a lot to catch up on. We've all been missing you."

"Yeah," Stiles agrees and climbs into the car after Scott. "It'll be a good visit, I hope."

 

||

 

because i’m not sorry for thinking about stiles coming back to beacon hills after a long absence and doing the rounds with his dad and with scott and allison and lydia — who never did join peter and derek’s pack even when stiles and jackson did. (and who would have thought of that? jackson and stiles almost considering each other brothers because of pack dynamics, even with stiles never taking the bite and jackson saying yes but peter wanting stiles despite that.)

so it’s been awhile since stiles has been home and there have been visits over holidays, but between internships and leadership conferences and sometimes stiles just taking off on a study abroad (because what if he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to consider beacon hills home when he had the whole world), time’s been a hassle to find.

 

and in that time, stiles has filled out in all the right ways. gotten that tall and lean body he’s always dreamed of making for himself, but there’s still a bit of softness to him and he still keeps his hair short. little things make it noticeable. like how he doesn’t have to extend his full arm to reach over the lip of the door frame and how allison now seems tragically small when she hugs him.

when it comes time to see the pack, he lets everyone know and then foots it the three or four miles it is to the hale's pack house because of course it’s still on the edge of town and the road that stiles would normally take is kind of winding but at least it has the sense to be an actual dirt road instead of a ground down path with the forest crowding in too closely.

and maybe he isn’t officially mated with peter yet. maybe that’s why he was away at college. maybe that’s why he could be away at college and now he’s come back to figure out once and for all if he wants to say yes, so while he’s running, he doesn’t smell like pack or of peter or of werewolf even — except for scott, just barely. and in the time that stiles has been gone, peter’s expanded a bit (well in line with his truce with the argents, of course) and there are wolves coming closer to sniff out the potential threat but doing nothing because stiles smells all human and what if this is another stray that’s coming to ask peter for the bite and maybe they should scare him a bit and catch him and _bring him_ to peter instead of just letting him run all over their territory. and the word barks its way up to jackson who tells derek before going to meet stiles halfway.

jackson sticks to the woods when he’s wolfed out but he gets close enough for stiles to see him from the road and stiles laughs (because let’s be real, this whole vaguely human wolf transformation that betas do kind of looks funny) and picks up his pace and steadies his breathing and hightails it the remaining mile and a half.

by the time he gets to the house, stiles is sweaty as all hell and jackson’s already there and derek too, up on the porch. stiles waves halfheartedly as he catches his breath, stretching as he goes to the spout on the side of the house and sticks his head under it to cool down and pulling off his shirt and wetting that too so that he can sling it around his neck. and stiles and jackson have this very bromanly greeting with laughing and shoulder punches and no hugs (and not just because stiles is soaking now).

then while a few other pack members creep out of the woods and from the house, stiles says, “it’s good to be here,” and derek comes down from the porch and scrubs his hand over stiles’ head and cups the back of it and says, “it’s good to have you.”

then of course there’s small talk about everyone back in town and does stiles know how long he can stay and stiles doesn’t take offense or feel like there should be a date when he leaves because he’s never quite kept them in the loop about his plans for the future, and stiles sort of rubs the sweat off his face and the back of his neck and looks around at the swelling pack numbers around them and says, “dunno. i graduated but… kind of depends on the reception, you know.”

and derek is all, “you’re always welcome here, stiles.” while jackson makes a grim, very serious face and says nothing at all.

stiles thanks them and his eyes are still on the pack and he says, “looks like peter’s making a real den for himself. there are a few new faces.” except that he’s not altogether sure if that’s true, though surely it must be. he just didn’t stay for more than a week last time he was with the pack, and it was always like he was trying to pin names to new faces and there’s no reason to expect that this time would be any different.

then a hush falls over the pack as footsteps sound on the porch and the pack surrounding stiles and derek and jackson shrinks back a little. derek and jackson turn together, framing stiles on either side, and stiles looks up, completely unsurprised when he sees the black boots and the dark jeans. but the shirt is nice — a sort of steel grey color with the top button loose — and _ironed_ too, the bastard (like stiles can’t see the creases on the sleeves). peter has them rolled up from his wrists as if he’s been wearing that shirt all day, getting his hands dirty but unwilling to mess up his shirt.

(except stiles knows that if peter’s actually doing physical labor, he always puts on a wife beater or a t-shirt or something that he doesn’t mind getting sweaty and dirty and it’s never a shirt with button. unless it’s plaid. or derek’s. so the only reason why peter’s wearing it is because peter knows that he looks good in that shirt and he wants to make a handsome impression on stiles’ first day back. except that he doesn’t want to look like he’s trying, so sends derek out to kill time while he rolls up his sleeves and plays around with a wet dishrag and strolls out all nonchalant and casual, like this play at inadvertent hotness will impact stiles’ long term decision at all.)

(it will.)

(because dayum.)

and anyway. so stiles says, “looks like peter’s making a real den for himself. there are a few new faces.”

then peter shows up looking fine as hell and says, “there’s always room for one more.” and by one more he means stiles and that’s a relief as much as it is an added pressure.

because he’s glad that he’ll always have a home here, but then there’s this whole thing about what if he says yes and then regrets it and itches to be on his own and traveling and being anywhere but beacon hills. and no offense to scott or anything, but stiles doesn’t think he’d like being a wolf without a pack. it sounds brave and awesome and stuff but stiles has always been the sort of guy that wanted a family, a big family that he could take care of and protect.

and then peter smiles, like he knows that he’s made stiles uncomfortable. “at the dinner table i mean.” and because his words are true for this context too, his heartbeat doesn’t even skip. “jackson caught a buck last week.” 

(on the full moon, which stiles remembers because he’d seen it on his calendar while planning his trip home and wanted to avoid it. his own feelings on the matter were already screwed up. he didn’t need peter high strung, aggressive, and possessive on top of that.)

*

dinner. so that’s awkward even though stiles isn’t shirtless anymore because derek is super nice and let stiles borrow. the dining room isn’t big enough to hold the whole pack, so for the meals that they all have together, the food is set up in the dining room in a buffet style and everyone goes around with plates and picks out what they want before heading to the living room or to the back patio to eat.

stiles pretends not to be intensely aware of how he’s being shuffled around or of how said shuffling wordlessly tells the rest of the pack exactly where stiles stands in the pecking order. (which is pretty high up considering peter gets his food first — though he gets small portions for himself so that there’s plenty for the many growing teens in his pack and because there’s plenty of food left in the kitchen, always is — and then derek sort of shoves the pack back with jackson snapping his teeth at them for good measure before ushering stiles toward the plates like he’s some sort of treasured guest.)

in any case, stiles isn’t up to dealing with a whole pack of wolves, even while they’re being soothed by food, so he gets bits of what he wants and then there’s a moment where he brushes by peter and they both do that thing with their hands going to either side because they’re trying not to touch each other and that would be, of course, when stiles notices that he has to look down a bit to meet peter’s gaze. but whatever, he’s out of there, plate of food and glass of iced tea and everything, and he plops down on the steps of the patio and stares out into the dark and thinks about how there’s nothing dangerous out there right now because all the wolves are in the house and at his back.

peter doesn’t join him immediately because he’s gotta get his pack fed and settled in, but as soon as that’s done — maybe fifteen minutes later and stiles is just picking at his food still — peter is the quiet steps approaching from behind and then the man easing down onto the steps next to him.

“so,” peter starts.

“i’m staying with my dad,” stiles says.

“ah.” peter raises a brow and pokes at his meal with a fork. “you know that you’re always welcome to stay here, stiles.”

“what, like, you always have some guest room done up for me in case i drop by?”

peter pauses. “well…”

“you mean that i have a place to stay here so long as it’s in your bed, don’t you?” stiles asks.

“i’ve never hidden what i wanted from you, stiles,” peter says and that’s almost an accusation. it’s almost what stiles wants to hear.

“all or nothing, huh,” stiles muses. “hell of a deal.”

“i don’t want to fight about this,” peter says.

“who’s fighting about it.” mock surprise. and stiles gets to his feet, dusting off the back of his pants. “maybe we shouldn’t even think—”

and peter grabs his arm. “it’s important, so it bears thinking about. i’ve made my decision, stiles.”

“i don’t want to talk about it,” stiles says and then picks up his plate to muddle through the clusters of pack members to get to the kitchen and start putting his plate in the trash

except that peter is on his heels and taking his plate from them and so stiles stands there with nothing to do with his hands while peter starts packing both their dishes away into tupperware and then the tupperware into the fridge and the tension ratchets up in stiles with every second that passes and he should just leave if that’s what he really wants to do. it’s not like peter’s stopping him. it’s not like anyone would stop him.

by the time stiles thinks that he’s gonna do just that, peter is in his space and saying, “you don’t want to talk? that’s fine,” and then he’s tilting his face up and pulling stiles down by the neck and it’s only a few inches but those inches are new territory to cross before their lips meet.

peter kisses the same as he always has even at this angle, with the same ravaging hunger and the same demanding pull. he kisses like he’s dangerous (and he is) and stiles aches for it every minute that he’s not here. getting to taste peter again after months of absence is always a dizzying, heady experience — like being drugged with a feeling so good that his world view narrows down to just peter, to just kissing him and feeling the compact strength of his body when stiles turns so that he’s pressing peter into the counter and then scooting his hand under the steel grey shirt that peter chose so that he’d look handsome for stiles, and peter doesn’t let him go anywhere even when he pulls away for a calming breath.

his lips are all along stiles’ jaw and one hand is still cupping stiles’ neck and the other is settled in the crook of stiles’ elbow. and peter kisses and keeps kissing and keeps ripping the control right out of stiles’ hands and says, “upstairs,” in a whisper that’s a promise and a threat and everything that stiles wants.

they don’t run into anyone in the hallway this time — because naturally the pack has deserted the area between the kitchen and the stairs from the moment they heard their alpha totally getting his mack on in the kitchen, let’s face facts — and they stumble up the stairs and into peter’s room while stiles is fumbling with the buttons on peter’s shirt and dumping the shirt that derek let him borrow in the hall and stiles hits the wall before he hits the bed and peter is holding him to the wall by his arms and mouthing at stiles’ shoulder and then his collarbone and then lips sliding up his neck with a wet lick and then tongue slipping slick into stiles’ mouth and stiles pushing forward with a groan because he wants goddammit

and peter gets stiles down on the bed and there’s lots of rubbing up against each other and getting their jeans down to their ankles before remembering that shoes are a thing and laughing while peter twists down to pull his off by the heel and then peter helping stiles get his jeans off and cupping stiles’ foot and preparing to spread stiles open except that stiles goes

“no—” before pushing peter back and then climbing over him. “you don’t want me because of some alpha thing, right? it’s not because i was in scott’s pack and then derek’s friend and you feel some need to assert your dominance over some rebellious human, right?”

“stiles, of course not—”

“then it doesn’t matter if i want it like this. even just once.”

and while stiles is talking, he’s grabbing the lubricant off the nightstand — because it’s out there, right in the open because peter probably thought of this while he was getting his clean shirt when he heard stiles was on his way — and then he’s turning peter over onto his knees because he can’t do this while peter’s watching. he just can’t. and it’s all stiles giving peter wet sucking kisses along his spine while he fingers him open and pets him comfortingly under the chest and belly and over his cock.

stiles whispers to him in the quietest way he can manage, thanks and love and desire, and peter’s uncomfortably tight for a long time before he sort of unfolds around stiles’ fingers, and when stiles presses into him, peter bows under him with a moan. god, he’s gorgeous and terrifying under stiles like this and stiles grabs the headboard with one hand and braces himself by peter’s shoulder with the other and fucks in with slow drags.

that lasts for all of a minute before stiles starts crowding him, starts pulling peter against his chest and petting the inside of peter’s thigh while he circles his dick as deep in as it’ll go. and peter is a panting, leaking mess while stiles whispers in his ear because stiles is tall enough to be able to do that now, get his mouth right up against peter’s ear and say, “look at a big bad alpha like you, letting me do this to you. wanting me to. you gonna lose control, peter?”

daring peter to lose control while he laces their fingers together, like he wants peter to sink his claws into him.

“want so many things, peter. want you like this all the time,” stiles says and peter’s hands curl over the headboard while he gives a broken sort of cry. “i’m the only one that you’d let have this, right? tell me that.”

and peter reaches back, nails digging at stiles’ neck and he twists their faces together, hisses: “tell me that you’ll stay.”

stiles wants to — so badly — so it’s all pulling away and turning peter around and getting him on his back and peter letting stiles push him anywhere he wants and letting his legs drop open while stiles lines up and sinks right back into him. they fold together like jigsaw pieces, overlapping and lining up and wrapping around each other while stiles takes them apart from the inside, and peter shudders, his whole body twitching and twisting tight, and stiles kisses him instead of saying anything else but peter must know by the way he does it, so full of desire and want and craving and frightened need, because he groans into the kiss and comes between them. just like everything else, he’s happy to drag stiles with him, and stiles hides his eyes against peter’s temple and comes too.

“i want to stay,” is the first thing that stiles says when they’re barely a minute into their afterglow and it’s all cooling sweat and rubbing themselves clean using the sheet. it’s something he’s never managed to say before. he’s never been certain enough to say it and peter would have heard the uncertainty long before stiles was prepared to know it existed.

“intention and action are two different things, stiles,” peter says, so gravely that it’s a wonder that he was moaning about stiles’ dick a little while ago.

stiles flaps his hands toward the ceiling. “what would i even do? you and derek and jackson have the pack all under control. i still don’t want to be a werewolf,” which is true (for now), “but i’d like to have… what you have. i think.”

“and what’s that?”

“a place where i belong.”

because family’s not right — not with his dad and scott still around. but he doesn’t quite belong with them now that they’ve all gotten on with their lives and especially not when he only sees them on his way here. if he belonged with them, surely it’d be the other way around, right?

“we need all the help we can get keeping the peace with the argents. i think having this big of a pack, even if we are neutral, makes the hunters nervous. i’m not looking to have another war in my lifetime and you’d be a good step toward starting us toward the mixed company we used to have.”

“you couldn’t have told me this before?” stiles asks.

peter shrugs. “you didn’t want to hear it. i wasn’t ready to say it.”

“yeah?” stiles turns on his side to look at peter with a kind of shit eating grin.

peter smiles this time. “i don’t like admitting when i might need help.”

stiles can’t stop smiling though, not even when he pushes up on his elbow to lean over peter and kiss him. “no problems here, though, right?” he asks, flicking his fingers in the space between between peter’s thighs. “do i need to worry about asking dr. deaton about a special grass or something a few years down the line?”

growls this time and peter rolls them so that he’s devouring stiles’ mouth and leaving him breathless. “maybe in a few decades. you sticking around that long?”

stiles sighs and kisses peter sweetly. “i’ll see what i can do.”


End file.
